Swallowed be thy name

On my tartan picnic blanket

we sat in the residual heat

of August sun,

and waited for dog owners to leave.

We stoked our fire

of twigs and husk,

and by the time our shadows were long

I was under

your swinging rosary.

The arms of trees extended like a priest’s to the sky and the

heavens opened.

I still wonder what it meant;

as you put your tights back on and I saw your

disappointment.

241

Two bottles of wine

Two bodies on a rooftop

Dressed like thieves in balaclavas

Four stories high

Four feet dangle off the edge

Swinging black scuffed sneakers

1am

One body on a roof

Sour memories (prose poem)

Little girl painting her toes in the mirror grapefruit pink  “Daddy’s home!” but she pretends she doesn’t hear  Monday rolls around and Mummy’s still got a swollen eye  A week

later Daddy takes his pills again and cleans the counters and brings tulips home

It’s now July and the girl watches fat bees gorge on orchids  She picks one that’s apricot orange

After school she rides the bus to see Mummy but the flowers are already rusting at the tips “Thank you sweetie”

Says the nurse “I’ll make sure she gets it when she wakes up”